Summer
by yllimilly
Summary: YGOFFC S8,5-T2. Do two wrongs make a right? Joey is coming to terms with his sexuality and his rocky relationship with his dad. It was all manageable until the too receptive Yuugi stepped in.


**Summer**

.

If Joey were asked what animal represented Yuugi best, he'd go for the owl. A cute, little, secretive night owl. At this very moment, in a room that was pitch black save for the irregular glow of a computer screen, with his wide open, crimson eyes, his ruffled but spiky hair pointing everywhere like hirsute feathers, Yuugi did look like a bird of prey, coolly hunting for bargains on a discount travel website.

And if Joey were asked what animal represented _himself_ best... He didn't really know. He couldn't come up with anything, not right now, on this especially hot and humid summer night. He'd worked nearly ten hours today, Yuugi's bedroom felt like an oven and so, 'thinking mode' had been switched off hours ago. Joey had wanted to assist in the search but computers never had been his forte - he still wasn't too good with his cell phone.

So he sat, content, sipping a fruit flavored malt beverage that his dad would kill him for. Yuugi always had a stack of these in his fridge, despite his overt aversion for the taste of alcohol and his grandfather's dietary restrictions. Joey suspected he kept a steady supply of the sweet stuff just for him.

The guys - well, mostly Yuugi - had been planning a trip to a Duel Monsters convention for months now, arguing that the gang hadn't hung out since graduation last year. Tristan, Duke, Ryou, Mokuba, even Anzu and her boyfriend were up for it initially, but almost all of them had had to call off, one after the other. Ryou's dad was coming over that weekend; Anzu was hosting a female friend's spontaneous baby shower; Duke and Mokuba each had social functions to attend for their respective businesses.

Joey gave up on fanning himself with his hand and brushing his sticky blond bangs off his slick forehead. He sank in a comfortable silence punctuated by the shy clicks of a mouse and the delicate tapping of Yuugi's fingers on the keyboard. This array of sounds felt soothing to him. And so, he nearly jumped when he felt his cell phone vibrate against his thigh.

"It's Tristan, isn't it," asked Yuugi quietly.

Joey didn't reply immediately, busy decoding the string of abbreviations on the tiny screen. Yuugi turned to him. Gentle creases formed in the skin on his nape as he twisted his neck to face his friend.

The clam shell was snapped shut and stowed back in the pocket whence it came. Joey's lips stretched in a thin line. "Yep. Says he can't make it."

"Oh."

Joey couldn't see Yuugi's backlit face, but he heard the disappointment in his voice. Or rather, the tone Yuugi used when he tried to hide his disappointment. One had to know the boy well to read him so, for he was a king of self-effacement, and Joey just so happened to be his best friend.

"He's getting transferred the week after. Says he wants to reserve that weekend for Miho."

"Can't be helped, can it." Yuugi failed to suppress a sigh. "Good for him." Worst thing was, Joey knew he really _was_ happy for Tristan's promotion. He just didn't have the heart to make the feeling come across.

"Don't be like that, Yug'." Joey wanted to think of a nice, generic thing to cheer him up, but words mingled in his head. He put his hand on his shoulder instead. "It's just the two of us now," he offered with his signature happy go lucky grin.

Yuugi didn't seem to mind the hand, absorbed in the webpage before him... No, he didn't react at all, and _that_ made Joey self-conscious. He took the hand back awkwardly. "Come on, Yug', cheer up. You sayin' you don't wanna be alone with me?" The sentence would have ended with a nervous laugh if Joey wasn't so exhausted.

"No, it's just that all the twin rooms are booked. We have to go for a double."

"We could get two separate rooms."

"The whole point of sleeping in the same room is to save money, Joey."

"I could ask my dad for extra hours."

"Last time you said that, you were dead tired and slept through the ball game. The whole point is-"

"To have fun, I got that." Joey sat back in the recliner, crossing his arms.

"We could share, I mean, I'm pretty small, and it's just for the one night," declared Yuugi sheepishly.

"I could sleep on the floor," came Joey's reply at the speed of light.

"We could take turns-"

"Just book the damn room, Yug'. We'll figure it out. So, um, you want a refill on that?" He pointed the empty energy drink can sitting on Yuugi's desk.

"I'd rather have a water, actually. Thanks, Joey." Yuugi shot him a tired, but earnest smile before fishing around in his wallet for a credit card.

It wasn't fair, thought Joey. Only _girls_ should be allowed to be cute like this. At prom, in his lilac suit, escorted by a taller and mature looking Anzu, Yuugi had earned more squeals from their females peers than anyone else, male or female. The chaste pair had been voted 'most photographed couple'. Joey had been secretly jealous of the attention they'd gotten, while he had had to spend the evening stuck with the daughter of an acquaintance of his father's... and _her_ group of friends. They had spent a grand total of ten minutes together before splitting up to their respective circles.

The blond stopped by the mirror in the hallway leading to the kitchen. If he could blame the heat for the many liters of sweat pouring out of his pores, he could also blame it for the newly rosy tint of his cheeks, right?

.

Bruce Wheeler wasn't a bad man. He merely was a man who'd taken bad decisions throughout his life.

Past his prime, he had a bad hip that forbade him from finding any kind of decent yet unskilled employment, and thus he owed his low effort job to his brother. At this very moment, he was treading the morning, mist laden lawn right outside his home, his patient son in tow.

"I think you should let me drive, dad."

Joey had tried to make his offer sound unimposing and manly at the same time, which was no easy task. If he played his cards right, he could convince the man to renege his keys before they finished crossing this patchwork lawn of theirs and reached the company pickup. 'Wheeler Roofing' was spelled out on its sides, thick black letters on spotless white.

"I think you should mind your own business." He cleared his clogged lungs and motioned for his son to step aside. "Move."

The imminent threat at hand wasn't his dad's hands, who were dangling relaxed on his sides rather than balled up in fists, but the man's degenerating eyesight. Joey had noticed that he squinted to read things like labels on his meds - which took up more space in the cabinet every year - and wasn't as good a driver he once was. His dad didn't seem to notice. After all, it was the company's fault if the fonts were illegible, and if that woman was able to park properly, he wouldn't have put a dent in her car...

"You know I'm a good driver. _You_ taught me." Joey meant it; he hadn't seen his father touch a bottle for over three years, and he knew for a fact that there was none hidden in the house. It wasn't hard for Joey to go through the mobile home's few drawers and cupboards, and he did so at least once a week. Just to be sure.

The man wouldn't have it. "When you spend time at my house, and not everywhere like a..." he searched for his words, his arms roaming widely in the air, "...wandering bum, we'll see about you driving my truck."

"Come on, dad. I was at Yuugi's. You know Yuugi," he blabbered on to bargain some time. He knew his dad wasn't too fond of the demure boy. He didn't take him too seriously. A child in his eyes. And he didn't dress like normal people.

"Don't test my patience, Joey."

The father glowered at the son.

Joey's heart beat against the insides of his ribcage like a jackhammer. He stepped aside. Maybe today wasn't a good time to try and take over driving, after all.

Although Joey was fit and reasonably muscular, he hadn't inherited his father thick bone structure. He was more wiry, like his mother. That alone had sufficed in crushing Joey's credibility in his dad's eyes. Nipping it in the bud. The man's mind was made up from the start.

"Are you getting in, or what." Heated air poured out of the truck as the man rolled down the window. The father tsked in annoyance at his motionless son, started the engine and pulled out into the street.

"Wait!" His dad must've heard his son's plead, because the truck stopped fifty feet away from.

Joseph Wheeler might not have been beefy enough to his father's taste, but he ran damn fast.

.

Days passed.

Joey postponed Plan 'Get Dad To Get His Eyes Checked' for the time being. He stopped spending every evening at the game shop and/or at Yuugi's place, as well.

Plan B involved gritting his teeth every morning when his dad burned red traffic lights and keeping an eye on him at work, bearing with the occasional snide remarks on his lunchbox utter un-manliness (Yogourt? You can't be serious) and watching sports on their 13" TV after dinner.

Like father, like son.

He even proposed, for the first time, to 'go for a beer' on payday with 'the crew'. Joey wasn't too excited about the prospect of spending an evening with middle-aged laborers, talking (trash) about women and cars and sports. Joey much rather enjoyed the arcade, the ice cream parlor, the riverside, to play Duel Monsters, and he liked to hang out with Yuugi, Tristan, Mokuba, Anzu, (Kaiba he could tolerate their rare encounters now, because they barely were around each other anymore).

Well, _nobody_ was around each other anymore.

He could have made a new social circle in the year that elapsed since graduation.

But.

The kids in his neighborhood were either too young or too old for him; anyone else was affiliated to some street gang which Joey had sworn he'd stay away from, and mostly, to please his dad and impress his uncle, he dedicated himself to his job.

So there he was, sitting on a terrace with a small group of stout, sweaty alpha males. The waitress, a girly middle-aged woman whose recently whitened teeth clashed with her wrinkly tan, broke Joey's train of thought.

"Hi boys!"

"Hey Nancy."

She was intimate enough with the five men crew to be leaning on the patio table rather than standing upright. Her dark blond curls brushed against the flaps of the Budweiser umbrella.

"The usual?"

The men bellowed in approval.

"So it'll be a round of PBR and... a Coke for my Bruce darling. Who's the kid? Hi honey." She winked at Joey maternally. Joey nodded to her in greeting, with a contrite smile.

"He's my boy," roared the father, chaining a thick, hairy arm around Joey's neck in an unprecedented display of affection.

"You ever had PBR, honey? You like it?" She almost sounded like she was asking his father permission to serve him alcohol, in artful display of face-saving diplomacy.

The woman, unwillingly, had laid out a cruel test of filial piety before the boy. He glanced at his beaming father and opened his mouth to voice his consent, but Nancy was quick in noticing his hesitation. She _was_ a pro, after all.

"I think he's more a Natty Light type of guy," she strongly suggested, raising her voice slightly. "Don't you think?" She took off, winking to Joey like he was her accomplice in a harmless crime as she went. All beer brands tasted the same to him; like bleh. He wasn't ready to bet on this 'acquired taste' principle, either.

Joey sat back and listened to his seniors in silence, laughing politely when a hilarious remark was uttered, nodding when an obvious truth of life was exposed, opening his mouth only to thank the waitress when she brought refills. Favored topics revolved mostly about women, child support payments, and chicks (in that order), neither of which was Joey familiar with. He hadn't completely accepted he might just never be.

"Is he gonna take after ya, Bruce?"

'He' stiffened in his plastic patio chair, unsure what allegedly famous traits he was to inherit from his burly old man.

"Not if he ends up with his mother's character." The men laughed knowingly, sympathetic to the hard knocks Bruce had gone through with the woman without having anything against her personally. "Nah, he's a heart breaker. He took an older woman home last month."

Johnny, the group's eldest, wolf whistled, and Joey was blessed with the unexpected impact of another man's paw in his back. He choked on his sip. The men laughed loud enough to make a good dozen heads turn. In typical masculine fashion, his dad pinched Joey's nape not unlike other men petted their dogs.

Mai had given Joey a ride home after a DM event in March, insisting on giving him a chaste peck on the cheek in front of his gossip-prone neighborhood. She was so mother hen-like it hurt; her numerous phone calls and Joey's avoiding her had been misinterpreted by his father ('You've got girl troubles', he'd say gleefully). Bruse Wheeler had never actually _met_ the woman.

Joey didn't get the chance to defend himself by the time he cleared his throat. More cold ones were brought to the table, then someone mentioned the story of this cougar who really wanted them to fix her plumbing, and soon home improvement tips was on everyone's lips.

From time to time, when Mr Wheeler said something he found especially funny, he'd pat his son's arm as one would slap their own thighs. Joey smiled uneasily.

He had come here to make a good impression, he saw it as a sort of rite of passage to adulthood, but he didn't say a word. He was too caught up with composing with the feelings fighting inside him: the desire to be recognized by his new peers, the pride of being indirectly boasted around by his father, the guilt of hiding one big, inconvenient truth from the same man.

Later, when the tab was paid, Joey's father sternly handed him the truck keys, arguing that he was too tired to drive.

Joey wasn't sure at first whether the man was serious or not. Reluctantly, he took the keys, trying to quell the pride swelling inside him.

Perhaps the man really _was_ tired, for he didn't say a word as his son drove him home. Joey, eyes obstinately glued to the road, was having an internal joust with the tiny monosyllabic word that threatened to ruin his life as he knew it. It wasn't much of a life, but it was as good as it could get, and he wanted to hold onto it at least a little longer.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Perhaps it was just the crappy beer, (notwithstanding the alcohol), that made his gastric juices bubble and churn. Perhaps it was the shitty traffic lights, out of sync even at such a ridiculously late - no, early - hour.

And it's in untimely moments like these, not quite sobered up from your first real beer with a bunch of grown men and waiting at a red light at the corner of Hansen Lane in the night between Thursday and Friday, that you think telling your father you're _gay_ seems like a good idea.

He turned to see the man, to look him in the eye. His lips, chapped, sunburnt, and hesitant, froze at the onset of the word 'I' - his father's traits were completely relaxed.

The man looked sated, content. Gazing at an invisible point far ahead in the road, yet engrossed in the thoughts brewing in his head. Seeing his father like this, sitting by his side, peaceful, Joey had never felt like the distance between them had ever been so great, and so little at the same time.

The blinking of a green light caught the corner of the eye. Joey believed his hand was shaking as he gripped the gear shift.

.

An hour later, staring at the ceiling from the humble height of his inflatable mattress, he accepted that the shaking wasn't going to stop unless he did something about it.

He had to tell someone.

The fat keyring rested on the counter, waiting to be seized. His dad wouldn't even notice, and if he did, he wouldn't blame him, and if he did, it didn't matter because it wasn't really 'his' truck, it was a company truck and therefore belonged to his brother, Norm Wheeler, owner of Wheeler Roofing. At this point, Joey didn't care. He did it for the sleep. All he wanted was to be sleeping like a normal human being. Which he _wasn't_.

And he knew someone who, right now, wasn't sleeping either. A good ear, trustworthy and accepting, able and eager to help him take off that cumbersome load off his figurative shoulders.

In retrospect, Joey should have _walked_ to the Kame Game Shop.

Because then, on the slow way by foot, he'd have figured out that, in retrospect, he shouldn't have gone _at all_.

The deficient ventilation of the truck only managed to shove hot air in Joey's face. By the time entered the store parking lot, Joey's hay-colored mane had dampened, sticking on what felt like every square inch of his face.

Joey had never noticed how the wooden staircase to the apartment above the store creaked, or how close the window to gramps' bedroom was to the outside door. He could hear him snoring, loud and clear, through the window screen. A barren flowerpot lay next to the garbage can and broom next to the door. Joey wiped his steel cap boots on the mat and entered without knocking, as usual. He was pretty much part of the Mutou family.

"Yuugi?" He called out softly, more self-conscious about his confession than about waking his friend's grandfather.

Faint light peeked from the slit below Yuugi's bedroom door.

Joey knocked once and stepped inside to see his best friend playing a video game with Internet strangers he'd never met.

The night owl nearly sprang off his chair when Joey tapped his uncovered shoulder, and brought a hand to his chest by reflex, much like some women are prone to do. Yuugi was also wearing nothing more than boxers, on account of the nearly suffocating humidity of the place.

"Joey! What- guys, can you hang on a second?" He looked at the glowing red digits on his clock, blinked, and placed his headset around his neck. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, erm, I think I'm interrupting something." Joey scratched the back of his head - like he often did in his goofy 'oops' moments. He hadn't done that signature gesture since high school, because working on rooftops several feet above ground just didn't _allow_ for such 'oops' moments.

"No, I mean, I can raid some other time. So did you go with your dad? How did it go?"

Joey had retreated to the room's entrance, leaning awkwardly on the door frame. He wanted to squirm away from Yuugi's considerate questioning. "It was... okay." He looked around the room, feeling infinitely plus one stupid. "I'm okay. I think I'll go now. I just wanted to drop by and say hi."

"At two and a half in the morning?" Yuugi's question trailed off. His voice was oddly soft.

Joey scratched an itch on his forearm. "It's not like you're asleep yourself."

"It's eleven thirty in Oregon," Yuugu replied simply like it was the most obvious explanation. "I gotta go, guys. See you tomorrow," he said to the attention of the electronic device sitting idle around his neck. He let the headset fall on his cushioned seat and stood up.

Then, and only then, it dawned upon a blushing Yuugi that he was one: prude by nature, and two: in his underwear. "I'll just-" he slid a nearby black tank top over his head, not caring that he risked ruining his hair as he did so- "Just sit anywhere you'll like, I'll get you some water."

Helpless in the face of his friend's zeal to be the eternal good host, Joey plopped on the bed, spreading his arms wide on Yuugi's neatly arranged sheets. He remembered being a kid and laying down like this in the snow, waving his limbs up up and down, then being brought to his feet by his mother who marveled at the angel shaped imprint her son had left behind.

Things were simple back then.

"You don't... look alright."

Joey shot back to sitting position upon hearing Yuugi's voice, taking the cold glass from his hand. Their fingers touched; Yuugi's were cold.

"Is it your dad?" Yuugi sat, all proper like, on the corner of the bed. Like it didn't belong to him. Ah, Yuugi. He'd never change. "Did he..."

"Nah," he quickly dismissed. "No, he didn't touch anything. My dad's fine. It's not him." Joey cursed at himself under his breath. In one silly little sentence, he'd managed to one, admit that something indeed was the matter, and two, lie to Yuugi's face.

This whole ordeal was one hundred percent about his father!

Or so he thought.

Yuugi tilted his head on the side, showing that he wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer, but without pressing further. His sighed a little, letting his frail shoulders sag.

"You know you can tell me anything."

Joey looked away.

"I know."

He didn't know why he regretted having come to Yuugi of all people. He could keep a secret, unlike Anzu. And he wouldn't be weirded out, at least he wouldn't show it, unlike Honda. He didn't feel close enough to Ryou or Duke or Mokuba. He didn't even feel close to his own estranged sister. Let's not even think about his mother...

"You know..." Yuugi paused, weighing each word, "if you ever need... I mean, if anything goes wrong... You can count on me, okay?"

"I know."

Three small, not so innocent words drummed inside his head.

I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay.

Yuugi lowered his head. Joey took a deep breath.

"I'm..."

He felt Yuugi's eyes back on him. That made him even more anxious for some reason.

"I don't know. Things... are kind of different, I guess."

There.

It was out.

His shoulders drooped.

Joey was free. He _felt_ sort of freed, at least.

He wasn't sure from the manic blood rush in his eardrums, but he believed Yuugi was holding his breath. He didn't want to check.

He didn't want to verify that his friend had gotten the message right. He felt different than he did before, and he felt different than others, and that was really the heart of the problem, right? That he specifically wanted to bang guys and that females completely failed to rouse him was irrelevant at this point. He could settle with the ambiguity, and he knew that Yuugi's 'friendship ethics' forbade him from probing any further.

In other words, he knew Yuugi would be a pal on this one because... he always was a pal.

Case closed.

Or maybe not. He winced, not wanting to read the emotion on Yuugi's face.

No one spoke for a moment. The fan in Yuugi's computer, the fan in grampa's bedroom and the snoring in grampa's throat did the talking for the time being.

A bout of dry cough from the master bedroom offered a truce. Yuugi sprang up.

"Look, if you're tired you can stay here for the night, okay? I just- I'll go check on grampa. Hold on, okay? I'll be right back. I'll check on him and I'll be back." Yuugi dashed out of his crowded bedroom, his slender legs avoiding the invisible obstacles standing in or lying down on his path.

When he left his grandfather's room, Yuugi heard the sound of an engine starting, ran to the window to see Joey's white pick up truck pulling forward and into the street.

.

Joey woke up to a 'choir' of barking dogs. He'd gotten short but decent sleep.

His father was already up; something was sizzling in a pan, and the house smelled like delicious fried meat.

"Sausage and biscuits! For my boy."

Joey stood up groggily, feeling his chin for the stubble he wouldn't have time to shave until tomorrow morning.

"Thanks, dad."

"Beer's been rough on ya," he remarked with a smile. He had evidently not noticed that the truck wasn't parked the same way it was when they came home together yesterday.

"Sort of, I guess." He didn't mind that his father patronize him a little, as long as he didn't ask too much questions. Then, all in one piece, the night's events, including - especially - his visit at Yuugi's came back to him. He sat down at the small table somehow reluctantly.

"Hungry much?"

"Not that much."

"It's good stuff."

"Yeah." Joey dipped a bit of biscuit in the beige gravy and forked into his mouth. His appetite was coming back to him.

"It's your favorite."

The son nodded in gratitude.

The radio hadn't been turned on. His dad was a fan of the weather broadcast, listening to it and commenting on it while he ate before setting off for work.

Joey feared maybe he had noticed his venture, and was planning on rebuking him for it. Or even worse - what if he suspected that...

No. He shook it off. He wasn't going to live his life in fear. There was no way his father had an inkling of what was going on in his mind when he jacked off in the shower, and he would never find out. End of story. Joey gobbled down his plate. It wasn't the best food, but it was comfort food and the childhood memories it brought back cheered him up. It had taken his mind off the idiotic, emotional behavior he displayed a few hours earlier.

At the end of the meal, Bruce Wheeler wiped his plate with a piece of soft, white bread, then ceremonially licked his fingers clean. He pushed his plate two inches away from him and cleared his throat.

Joey stopped toying with the last few soaked crumbs and kept staring at his plate, waiting for his father's true intentions to be revealed.

"You're a man now."

Joey sat up straight and returned his father's stare blankly, docilely waiting for the monologue to unfold.

"You can't live with your old man forever. You hafta think about those things. Hafta get a place of your own, settle down with a nice girl-"

He interrupted himself, like the rest of his sentence wasn't worth saying - or listening to. He stared at another of those remote points, lost in the immeasurable distance beyond the invisible wall between himself and his son.

Joey grabbed the emptied plates and took them out for a rinse. He had to use the bathroom sink because the kitchen sink was clogged.

.

At lunch break, Joey switched his cell phone on.

One message.

Kame Game Shop.

Time: 5:50 AM.

Joey froze in his tracks, falling behind the crew on its way to the hot dog stand.

Nope, he didn't have the heart to listen to Yuugi's voice after the dick move he imposed on him last night.

Oh, he tried to press that button. He couldn't. He couldn't deal with the guilt. He could always call Yuugi and pretend he hadn't gotten his message. He could also _ignore_ Yuugi's message and pretend he hadn't gotten it at all.

He looked at the group turning the corner ahead of him, at his dad.

'You're a man, now.'

Being a man could mean all sorts of different things.

Joey decided he owed his friend an apology. He retraced his steps, then headed for the Kame Game Shop.

He got there exactly twelve minutes later, drenched in sweat. A single, small business van, white with a blue cross on it, was parked in the lot. Otherwise, it was vacant. A typical, slow summer day.

The door chime rang for no one but Joey. It was unlocked, yet the shop was empty. Most kids, gamers or not, preferred a cool swimming pool to an indoor dueling table during heat waves. Half opened cardboard boxes docilely waited by the till.

"Coming!" That was Yuugi's voice calling from the upper floor, and those were Yuugi's light feet galloping down the stairs. "Oh, Joey!"

"Hey Yug'," shot the blond with an embarrassed smile. He thought of the coughing fit that had made his escape possible. "Is your grandpa okay?"

"Yes." Yuugi settled behind the counter, unpacking the brown boxes. "They're installing the machine right now." Joey noticed the dark creases under Yuugi's eyes, and the red rivulets on his eyes.

"What machine?"

"You didn't get my message?"

"Yeah, yeah I did," lied Joey. "So... your grandpa's okay then?" Joey scratched the back of his head uneasily.

So much for his excuses.

"You didn't really get my message, then," said Yuugi softly. Boy, he looked tired. He looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

"I guess I didn't." All Joey could muster in terms of apology was an idiotic, contrite smile.

"They say Grandpa has sleep apnea. He needs a sleeping machine. To sleep. Someone's here installing it. I'm not too sure how it works. But they're gonna show me. I think... I'd like to stay here this weekend to keep an eye on him." He broke in nervous laughter. "I'm just rambling on. Sorry. I'm a bit tired." He chuckled nervously.

It was heart wrenching to see Yuugi abnegating himself like this. He had listened - and done everything he could - to ease Joey's aborted confession, took care of his grandfather and of the store practically on his own...

And he was the one apologizing to Joey.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Joey looked at the the tip of his boots.

"About last night..."

"I've been a real dick, Yug'. I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know what happened."

You've been a coward, that's what.

"It's okay." Yuugi looked relieved from the apology. The uneasy weight on Joey's chest was somewhat lifted.

Indistinct talking echoed in the staircase. Yuugi peeked outside. So did Joey. The whole street seemed vacant. The shop looked like it hadn't had a visitor all morning.

"Joey..."

He met Yuugi's gaze. It was firm but gentle.

"Was there... something you wanted to tell me, last night?"

Joey's throat tied itself into a knot. He swallowed, glanced at the action figures displayed on the walls, at the orphaned booster packs on the counter, at Yuugi's perfectly still hands, at Yuugi's dead serious, bloodshot eyes.

"Uhm..." That was meant to sound like 'I', or 'Yeah', but it was stuck, like his vocal chords were all tangled.

He hadn't expected to be confronted again. He thought Yuugi wouldn't dwell on his bizarre nocturnal visit. He thought he'd understand and let him be. He thought he'd be gentle as to avoid the sensitive topic like he had done so many times for Kaiba. And Anzu. And Ryou. Joey didn't feel well and was tempted to resent Yuugi for it. He thought, briefly, that he was being cornered by Yuugi and that it wasn't fair.

Joey had thought wrong.

He was his best friend, and he cared enough not to leave him to his downfall.

That much was clear to him.

Yuugi stood solemn behind the counter, rosy cheeked and determined, looking up at Joey. His chest heaved; the hint of a playful secret gleamed in his eye.

"I have something to tell you, too."

.

Fin

.

.

.

**Omake**

.

They were sitting on the floor across each other, gathering their cards off the coffee table.

Yuugi four, Joey zero. The blond used to wonder why their were shuffling their decks even though they had chosen to do three out of five. He wondered why he even enjoyed dueling with Yuugi.

Now he knew.

The night from Saturday and Sunday was cooler than the previous ones. The smell of rain oozed through the windows. Yuugi had prepared lemonade with honey and oranges. It tasted good. Yuugi's grandfather had adapted well to the CPAP machine. It'd take time to get used to the noise, though.

They didn't mind that the hotel room was non-refundable.

"We can play something else if you want."

"Nah. We've got that fifth game to play, right? I still gotta beat your scrawny ass."

"I don't think I'm scrawny," retorted Yuugi meekly.

They chuckled. No, scrawny wasn't the word.

Joey was waiting for Yuugi to complete his shuffling ritual. One was not the King of Games for no reason. He scratched an itch off the tip of his nose and looked at Yuugi's alarm clock. Bold green digits read 1:something. 1:36 or 1:58. He blinked. Still blurry. It didn't matter.

Joey laid down his deck and stretched.

"You can stay over if you'd like." Yuugi dimpled to him. Not blurry anymore.

Joey chuckled, running a nervous hand in his hair. The tips of his ears were burning.

"Sure."


End file.
